Break Even
by Echante
Summary: Addison and Mark stay together after Derek leaves and are happy, but she gets pregnant and miscarries and they lose contact for three years. When they meet again, she's engaged and his heart is broken... That's the best I can do.


A/N: Okay, so this is basically a really bad romantic comedy. Like straight out of one… But um… excuse me? A Mark and Lexie fanfic is get 22 reviews for one chapter? What has the world come to? And where has all the Maddison love gone? I leave for like a week and this is what happens? Its not proof read so sorry.

_What am I going to do when the best part of me was always you?_

They both know that they started in a less than decent place. The depravity surrounded them, the silent whispers of their peers, the haunting judgment of the brownstone walls, the cold presence of her wedding band; it all served to remind them of the sins they committed. But the thing is, Mark Sloan could hardly care, because he was the happiest he'd ever been. It was a concept so foreign to him that he almost didn't recognize it. He'd been under the delusion that his string of nameless fucks had made him happy, and it was disconcerting how wrong he was.

Because happiness, as he knew it now, was so easily recognizable, that he didn't know how he'd gotten it wrong all those years before. Happiness was waking up with red hair splayed across his bed and kissing the forehead of a woman who he loved and then smiling widely despite the fact that he hated waking up. Happiness was making her pancakes because it got her to smile in a certain way that made his heart pound faster and the love surge harder. Happiness was now, twirling the engagement ring on her finger and knowing that it belonged to him not her ex-husband. Happiness was slipping his hand up her shirt to feel the heartbeat of their growing child. Happiness was his to have, and he devoured it hungrily.

"Hmm," she sighs as she slowly opens her eyes, stretching her arms out and smiling at him, "Mornin' babe."

He grins and kisses her on the lips, pecking gently before tugging her upwards, "I'm going to go for a jog, you wanna come with me?"

She snorts, "Right, like I'm going to subject myself to that sort of torture, and under these conditions?" She raises an eyebrow and places a hand on her swollen belly for emphasis.

"We could go slow," he whines, "please?"

She shakes her head resolutely, "No. I refuse, you go and get sweaty."

"Fine," he huffs, yet another unsuccessful attempt at getting her to run with him, "I'll go by myself."

"I think that's for the best."

He kisses her one last time before launching himself out of bed to pull on shorts and a tank-top. She watches him admiringly, "Looks like the running is doing you well," she comments smirking and he winks back at her. "I go through the 'torture,' as you put it, all for you Addy, solely for your enjoyment."

She laughs and shakes her head, "Get out of here you, and don't come back until you know you've run enough to keep that physique."

"You're so demanding," he complains but head of the doors anyway, shoving his ipod headphones into his ears as he goes, "I'll be back in an hour," he calls over his shoulder and head out the door. She smiles softly to herself and glances at the clock. With a satisfied smirk, she goes back to sleep.

_They say that bad things happen for a reason._

"Addison, what's wrong?" Mark asks when he arrives home from work to find her collapsed on the side of the couch, hands pressed to her head.

"I'm… I'm so dizzy Mark, and my head hurts… it hurts like hell."

Panicked, he grabs her by the hand and pulls her quickly to her feet and then swings her into his arms. He runs towards the elevator, carrying her like a small child and dashes towards a cab. "Bellevue hospital," he tells the driver urgently, "and please hurry."

Addison whimpers quietly the whole way there and Mark paces in the hall while the doctor examines her. When the woman finally emerges from the room Mark jumps quickly to his feet and demands answers quickly, "Is she okay?" He asks, "What's wrong?"

The other doctor smiles sympathetically and quietly deliver the news, "Addison has developed a preeclampsia, which was the cause of her headaches but I'm afraid that is the least of her worries, the baby has developed Placenta Accreta, where the placenta burrows in the uterine wall. We're preparing to take her into surgery, but she wants to talk to you before she goes."

He nods and follows her into Addison's room quickly; he doesn't look up when the door closes behind them. "Hey honey? Addy? Are you okay?" He asks when he enters the room.

She nods quietly, "I think so, the conditions I have though…" she sighs, "it doesn't look good." She looks up at him with wide eyes, "Mark, you have to promise me, if you have to make a choice, me or the baby, you have to choose the baby. You have to. I can't live without him Mark, I can't," she breaks down and sobs quietly, "I love him already. I won't live without him."

"Hey," he tells her, lifting her chin up so her eyes meet him, he kisses her softly before saying, "That's not going to happen, okay? It won't."

She tries to nod and agree with him but she can't keep the doubt from her eyes and he sees that. The nurse comes to prep her for surgery and he steps to the side, still holding her hand, "It's not going to happen," he repeats blindly, "It won't happen."

"Choose him," is the last thing she says before she is wheeled out of the room, "You have to choose him."

_No wise words are going to stop the bleeding._

He doesn't. In the end, he chooses her, like he always knew he would. They couldn't tear the child out of the uterine wall and he allows himself to let his child go. There can be other children. There will be no more Addisons.

When she wakes up childless she screams. She screams wildly in sorrow and then, just as abruptly, her mouth slams shut and the tears roll down her face and she resolutely says "Take me home Mark."

He tries to talk to her but she shakes her head and doesn't listen. He pleads with her but she closes her heart, "You promised," is all she can say and he doesn't have the heart to tell her that he never did.

She buries herself under a pile of blankets on their bed and stares at a single spot for hours, the only evidence of life in her is the occasional sigh and the rhythmic in-and-out of her breathe. He tries to touch her but she moves away silently, he tries to pull her into his arms but she struggles out of them, he tries and tries but she pushes him away and he resigns himself to barely living. He thought he saved her but he lost her in the process.

When she doesn't move after three days, he tries other methods. He cooks, he cleans, he sings to her but she barely blinks. He drags the television into their room and plays all of her favorite movies in front of her but she doesn't acknowledge his presence. He threatens to call her parents, then he actually calls her parents but they come and scream at her and she still doesn't move. Finally, he settles for what he thinks is rock bottom and mans up. He calls Archer.

Archer storms into the room full of Montgomery self-righteousness and goes straight to the bed. He stops when he is right above her and then rolls up his sleeve. Mark watches in abject horror as Archer Montgomery slaps Addison Montgomery straight across the face but it works she blinks up at the two of them and the layer of haze that covered her eyes almost disappears. "What do you want?" she asks angrily as if they'd just trespassed into her life.

"You talk to her," Archer says with a shrug, "My job is done."

Mark is still a little shocked when Addison turns to him expectantly and he sighs in relief, "Addison," he says flocking to her side and kissing her hand, "I was so scared, I was so scared I lost you. I was so scared."

"What do you want?" She repeats, an unfamiliar coolness entering her eyes.

"Addison!" He protests, "It's me! It's Mark! I'm here for you baby, I don't want to lose you, I love you… I love you so much. I love you."

She sighs and turns away, pushing the blanket off of her and changing into her day clothes, "I'm sorry," she says to him, mechanically, lifeless, "But I can't… I can't love you anymore. I'm sorry." She twists the rings off of her fingers as he stares at her speechlessly, "I'm sorry." She pulls her heels onto her feet and opens a suitcase, quickly packing the few belongings she cared about. When the zipper of her luggage snapped shut, she took a quick glance at Mark and then opens the door. She pauses half-way through leaving and ads, "Don't come after me Mark, I think it's for the best."

He doesn't move when she closes the door behind her, officially closing the door on the rest of his life.

_I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing._

**Three Years Later:**

The world hasn't changed since she left him. Things still taste the same, women still giggle in the same way; the colors still blend together. He doesn't consciously miss her anymore, his heart reminds him by skipping a beat at the mention of her name and his eyes trick him by imagining her in places she used to be with him, but he spares himself the heartache by ignoring it all.

He still goes jogging every morning. He never changes the path, always the same route around Central Park and back to his apartment. Someday he imagines he sees himself, settled on the bench by the swings, watching Addison push a little red haired girl along the swings. He sees the ghost of his baby girl on the slide, her laughter almost haunting. He sees the ghost of Addison laughing. He misses seeing her laugh. He thinks it might be what he misses the most.

When Addison materializes in front of him, he almost runs right through her, thinking his mind was screwing with him again. But she looks just as surprised as he does so he thinks it's real this time and slows until he's jogging in place. "Hi," he says shyly and she responds in kind, "Hey."

"Umm…" suddenly he finds himself at a lost and they become strangers, "How are y…" he's in the process of asking when his eye is drawn to her hand by a subtle glint. She's engaged. Fuck.

She follows his gaze to her hand and then quietly explains, "I'm getting married in a month."

"Oh," his eyes grow wide and his words turn fake, "Um… congratulations, who is he?"

"Casey Chase…"

"Casey Chase as in… the man who…"

She finishes the sentence for him, "he owns most of the Bank of Americas in the area."

He takes a step back at the revelation that she's engaged to a billionaire and observes her, finally seeing the differences. She'd always grown up wealthy and was used to nice things, but there was a certain amount of pretension in her clothes and in her hair and in her make-up that he doesn't like at all.

"Oh." Is all he can say to that and he shuffles around uncomfortably while she racks her brain for a question to ask him in turn.

"Um…" she stutters a bit, "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Oh, no," he attempts a boyish grin but he thinks it probably ended up more like a grimace, "I'm living the single life for now."

She smiles but it's hollow, "That's the Mark I remember." He wants to tell her that he was different but he thinks it doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore.

"Um… well I have to," he gestures to the path ahead of him and then tacks on as if it's an after-thought, "go."

"Oh!" Her eyes widen and she hurriedly agrees and steps to the side allowing him to pass. He sprints out the remainder of his route and stomps his anger into the ground as tears begin to burn the back of his throat. He screams when he can't take it any longer and his misery is swallowed by a city full of it.

_What am I supposed to do when I'm all choked up and you're okay?_

Her sudden reappearance in his life isn't doing wonders for his liver. He stares at the glass as he refills it and forces it down his throat, hoping he can bury the sobs under a layer of haze. She was the best thing that ever happened to him, he acknowledges that. He'd forgotten that she could be so cold.

He turns on the T.V. and stumbles about his apartment in an empty daze, knocking over glasses and books and not caring enough to rearrange them. He's bleeding by the time he makes it to the couch, his fist had slammed through the glass table and his feet bleed on the glass scattered about the floor. He's hit rock-bottom; of this he is almost sure.

He sinks down on the couch, swiveling onto his back and lays down, the corner of the remote digging into his back. The volume jumps up until he hurriedly flings it across the room, hitting the rack where she used to hang her shoes and knocking it over.

The animated whirring of the television is the last thing he hears and it slowly fades away. Maybe there's a way to move on, but he just doesn't see it happening.

_Oh you got his heart and my heart and none of the pain…_

He wakes up with a pounding hangover, he thinks maybe God is trying to pound some sort of rebuke into his head but he can't concentrate hard enough to understand his faults. He doesn't even notice himself pulling on his shorts and tying his shoelaces. He thinks, as he heads out the door, that only a stupid idiot would go running when he had a hangover but he does.

It's inexplicable; it's almost as if something is guiding him because the movement of his feet against the pavement doesn't hurt his shins. He can barely feel it; it's as if he's floating. The scenery flies by, bit by bit, moment by moment. Families pass and he finds himself contemplating their stories, how did they get to this moment? Were they always happy or were they lead through heartbreak. How many of them would still be together within the year?

He'd wanted to be young forever, and now he wants the future to take him. It's funny how life works out.

There's something amiss and he isn't quite sure what it is. There's a sort of mystical feeling in the air and he almost stumbles it becomes overwhelming. He isn't sure what's happening until all of the sudden she's there and everything makes sense. "Hi." He says, grounding to a halt. She looks up as if she's surprised but really she's expecting him.

"Hi," she replies, softly, shyly.

"Hey," he replies, confused, "Um…," he tries to laugh, "Fancy meeting you here."

She smiles a bit and bites at her lips, "I know… I just… I was waiting for Casey to finish… working and I remembered you run by here every day… I was just…" he watches her struggle silently, not bothering to help her out because some part of him is still mad at her for running away. She squirms a bit and then sighs and still herself, "I was wondering if you wanted to get a cup of coffee maybe? And maybe… catch up or something?"

He considers walking away, he even settles on that conclusion but before the rational side of his mind can speak, his heart answers for him, "Sure," he says, incredulous, "Where?"

They end up at some hole-in-the wall coffee shop, drinking from wide rimmed cups and listening to the soft crooning of Neil Diamond and Micheal Buble. The conversation is superficial, she asks about the state of his apartment and he winces slightly when he thinks of it but nods and says it's good. He doesn't ask about her fiancé and she doesn't offer any details, the both know it hurts too much to speak of and some part of them reverts to a time before the baby, before the affair, before the sex—a time when they were best friends and understanding between the two of them was explicit.

There are subtle reminders of where they are, what they've done, what direction their lives are heading. Her engagement ring sparkles on her finger and catches his eyes; the wrinkles developing around his tired eyes catch her slightly off guard. There's a certain weariness in his voice that she's certain wasn't there before, there' a certain coldness in hers that he knows she didn't use to carry. But for the most part, they laugh pretentiously and they talk superficially so well that Mark almost believes that he can reach across the table and grab her hand without getting slapped.

The moment is ruined though, when her fiancée walks through the door. Suddenly, the smile falls from Mark's face and the grin on Addison's becomes fake. She bounces up to greet him and he holds her arrogantly, flaunting her. Mark wants to punch him in the face. He refrains himself though; he doesn't think Addison would appreciate it.

She introduces them to each other, careful to label Mark as an 'old friend' instead of what he really is, the man she used to love. The air around them becomes thick and Mark finds himself struggling to get through it. Every movement feels so forced and he's almost appalled by the Addison he is presented with. She doesn't smile, not genuinely, she's older, and her sighs are masked by tiny little laughs. He wants to slap her, force her out of this coma of sorts but he doesn't. Instead, he makes his excuses and leaves as quickly as he can; jogging away from the store and then sprinting back to his apartment. He thinks Addison must be bad for his liver but it's the last sober thought he has because the liquor flows quickly and into his hands.

She always hid behind a successful exterior, but he'd never been good at acting. Misery was all he could count on.

_I'm falling to pieces._

The strangest thing happens to him, he wakes up and he's surprisingly upbeat. He thinks maybe the over doze of booze and television has confused his emotions but he's hopeful when he ties his shoelaces and prepares himself for a run. The smile on his face grows slowly when he sees her standing there, in the same place she was the day before, twirling a piece of hair through her fingers.

"Hey," he says and slows to sit beside her, rewarded by the slight smile that tugs on her lips.

"Hey you," she says, and it's almost flirtatious. He thinks he might be seeing things but suddenly, she laces her fingers through his and pulls him up with her, "Let's go for a walk," she says.

He thinks he should be questioning, he thinks there should be issues with this current situation, he knows he's going to end up hurt but he really can't bring himself to care. He grabs her hand and doesn't let go. It feels right.

It's never felt so right.

She pulls him along a familiar path and he recognizes it, it's his apartment. He's a bit confused when she pushes the door open and tries to stop her but it's too late. Her eyes widen when she sees the destruction but instead of rebuking him like he thought she would, she turns to him, eyes full of sympathy and compassion. And then, she does the unexpected. Her hands make their way around the back of his neck and she smiles as she pulls him down and kisses him. He freezes.

He must be dreaming.

It's the only way.

But when her hands settle on the waistband of his jeans he relaxes and allows himself to enjoy it.

_Just prayin' to a god that I don't believe in._

He wakes up alone and in the dark. He thinks he probably dreamed it all, but there's a red bra on the floor and a scent lingering in the air that is so definitely Addison. He wants to scream, he wants to hate her but again he can't. Instead, he settles in and waits. He knows that she'll get tired eventually. He just doesn't know how soon.

He doesn't know how much longer he can wait.

He goes running anyway, hoping against hope that she'll be there.

There some sort of commotion outside the Waldorf Astoria and something pulls him in. He edges himself into the edges of the crowd and asks a bystander, "What's going on?"

"The bride just ditch out of the wedding!" The man said excitedly, "It was a what the fuck moment to be sure. This dude's rich. Who would do that?"

He doesn't sit around to wait for the man's analysis of the marriage. He turns his heels and runs back to his apartment and forces the door open. He sighs in relief when he finds her sitting in his living room, dressed in a wedding dress.

She smiles at him and sighs, "I love you," is all she says, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

He doesn't speak; he just kisses her, spinning her around as she laughs.

The misery is parting now, the clouds disappear. Life always surprises you. Sometimes it comes down on the side of the dirty mistress.


End file.
